Forbidden Fruit
by Lauralogan80
Summary: At the tender age of two, Arnold is sent to live with the Pataki's, after his grandparents are declared unsuitable caregivers. A bond is forged between two lonely children who though raised as brother and sister, have desires that are anything but . . . (short first chapter)
1. Chapter 1

(New Story - I don't own Hey Arnold or it's characters)

...

...

The earliest memory I have of my time living in the Pataki household, was the day I arrived. It was raining and inside I could hear a piano playing. When the woman who had picked me up from the hospital rang the bell, the piano playing stopped. A blonde woman opened the door. I was shuffled inside and taken into the lounge. There was a older blonde girl sitting at the piano, smiling at him. A big, huge man, who looked like a giant, tall, wide and scary. I didn't see the fourth person in the room at first. She was hiding behind the couch. It was when I saw a blonde pigtail pull back behind it that I realized someone else was here.

The adults talked around us, some papers came out of her suitcase. I was standing there with my own little suitcase, looking around at the living room. The older girl came and took my hand and suitcase. The woman who had brought me here, gave me a small smile, then left. The girl - Olga - took me upstairs. There were some pictures on the wall, I can't remember them now. They have changed from all the way back then. Now the wall is adorned with pictures of the whole family, including me.

At the top she led me to the right and into a room. It had blue wallpaper, a single bed with a blue bedspread, a chest of drawers and a toy box with a football, and baseball mitt in it. I was eager to see what else was in there. From the corner of my eye, I again saw a blonde pigtail and turned just in time to see her face vanish out of sight. Olga, seeming to know what had gotten my attention, went to the door.

"Helga, com in, her wont bite," she said. A moment later a small girl, around my age, looked in. Her eyes were huge, and she looked like she was about to cry. I didn't know why then, but as the years passed, I would learn. I would also be a reason for the sad looks and silent tears and cries as we got older. But back then, I wanted to make her smile. So I smiled at her first.

She didn't smile back. Just made a face, turned around and left.

"Helga, don't be so rude!" Olga cried out. She came back and shook her head. "Don't you worry about Helga. She's . . . difficult sometimes. But I'm sure she will warm up to you soon."

She helped me pack my things away, then let me rummage through the toy box. It was a boys dream! Cars, planes, a baseball and football, a mitt. I beamed up at Olga.

"I hope you'll be happy here, Arnold," she said, planting a kiss on my forehead.

And that was how I came to be raised as a Pataki.

...

...


	2. Chapter 2

"I just don't get her," Gerald said, looking over at where Helga was standing. Arnold looked over to see who he was talking about. He always felt bad when Gerald said something negative or bad about Helga. He knew that she was lonely. Very lonely. He did what he could to make her happy. But it wouldn't help when Bob Pataki would boast about some accomplishment of Arnold's, while ignoring hers.. It was like she went from the shadow of her older sister, to the shadow of her "brother". And it must have hurt all the more because Arnold wasn't even blood.

He was, however, the boy Robert Pataki had always wanted.

"She's just having a rough time at the moment," he said defensively.

"That girl is always having a "rough time" man, why do you keep defending her?" Gerald demanded. "How does someone as nice as Phoebe hang around with her? She deserves better than Helga Pataki for a "best friend"."

"Just shut up about it, Gerald," Arnold grumbled. He loved hanging out with his best friend. But not when he started speaking negatively of Helga.

He and Helga had been raised together in the same household. When they were introduced to people they were introduced as brother and sister.

Yet they were so different.

Helga was quiet, and reserved, though Arnold knew she had a flaring temper that was quick to ignite, whereas his was slow. Arnold was outgoing and made a lot of friends easily. Helga had two best friends in the world. Him and Phoebe. Even then, Arnold sometimes wondered if Helga even liked him, or just tolerated his existence because she had no choice. When they were little, not long after he arrived, they were joined at the hip.

Then, when they started middle school, they started to drift apart a bit. Helga started to retreat, sometimes to the point where Arnold would wonder if she really existed, or was a figment of his imagination. It was only when others spoke of her that he realized that, no, she wasn't part of his imagination, but real. Just quiet.

And sarcastic and snarky as all hell.

When she did "break out of her shell", people usually immediately regret it, and wished for her to retreat again. She always knew what a persons raw nerve was, and always hitting it hard, she could make even teachers cry, and had done so. One had even quit after a particularly nasty show down with her. Not that many children complained. She was a nasty woman to have, and no one really liked her. One day she decided that she would pick on Helga. Helga put up with it for two weeks, before she went on the attack. A very vicious one. The teacher had left in tears and not returned, though Helga was called into the office. And Bob was called.

Arnold could still remember the ride home vividly.

"Why can't you be more like your sister, or your brother?" Bob berated her. "I never get called into the office for Arnold. And never met the Principal at all while your sister was there. Unless you count the times I saw him from a distance as she got a reward. Speaking of which, I put up another shelf for you boy."

Bob kept Arnold busy. Sports mostly, though he pushed him in academics as well. Arnold often went to Helga for help. Sometimes she would help him. Other times not. He had trophy's, ribbons and certificates, all on their own shelves and boards in the Trophy Room. The most recent one had been second place for BMX.

Sometimes Arnold would look at all, and wonder why he had so many, while Helga seemingly had none. Helga was almost non-existent in the house. She would leave a very little mark on the family. The only photo's she was in, were family ones. And she always looked . . . separate . . . from them, like she didn't belong. Which always seemed weird, considering _he_ was the adopted one, and yet looked more like he belonged than she did.

That was the day Helga finally shut him out. She stormed up to her room and slammed her bedroom door. Arnold had gone up later to talk to her, but she refused to open the door, and when he looked in, she threw a book at him, and he quickly backed out and closed the door. She didn't even come down for dinner that night.

"Nothing but problems with that girl since she was conceived," Bob muttered. "Remember the morning sickness you used to get with her Miriam?"

"What? Oh, yeah, yeah, morning sickness, terrible," Miriam would mutter, then take a bite from her food. Arnold frowned at her. Something always seemed off with her. Helga had called her a drunk.

"That's horrible, Helga, why would you say that?" Arnold had asked once. Helga had looked him straight in the eyes, and sneered.

"Because it's the truth, Football Head," she'd said, and stormed off to ballet. Arnold later looked up what she meant by drunk. Okay, so maybe she was . . .

That day had been two years ago. Although they talked, and Arnold knew more about her than most people would have, she still refused to really _talk_ to him.

"Look, I'm just saying-"

"Well, dont," Arnold snapped.

Fourteen years old, and in their first year at high school, the boys had been through a lot together. Hormones were starting to kick their butts. Both had resorted to using products to hold back the acne. So far so good. Helga had laughed when she had caught him using her stuff.

"Nothing will make you look good, Football Head, so why bother?" she'd sneered at him.

"Better than having a jungle growing on my face," he quipped back. "When are you planning to harvest it?"

His hair turned pink the next night after a shower. Lesson _not_ learned though. He wasn't going to be bullied by her! Again though, it was Helga who was punished, while Arnold got away with it. Helga stood silently, glaring at the wall, as Bob yelled at her for her "antics" and forced her to apologize to him.

It was always the way, and it was getting to a point now, where Arnold felt quite smug when it happened.

He watched as she walked across the cafeteria and took a seat next to one of the most reknown freaks in the surrounding high schools: Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, known as Curly.

Arnold knew Helga and he took ballet together. He had gone to one show once, because Gerald wanted to impress Phoebe, by showing he could be "cultured".

Strange feelings had nudged their way to the surface, while Arnold watched Helga and Curly dance together. He had left feeling hot and nearly out of breath. And when he went to sleep that night, it was restless. All he could see when he closed his eyes was Helga dancing.

He saw her look his way and smirk, then she started to talk to Curly. Arnold looked away.

"I'm gonna do it, man," Gerald said.

"Do what?" Arnold asked, looking up.

"Ask Phoebe out."

"Really? Minus spilling your soda down her back this time, right?" Arnold asked, not being able to help himself, as a laugh escaped.

"Man, that is not cool," Gerald said, sending him a glare. "Just have my back, okay?"

Arnold smiled. "I'll even hold your drink!"

"Just hurry up and finish eating so I can do this before I lose my nerve," he said. Arnold smiled and scoffed down the last of his food.

"Come on then," he said.

They both made their way over to the table where Phoebe sat, with Helga and Curly. Just as he was about to say something two other kids joined the group. Arnold rolled his eyes. Gerald was going to chicken out for sure, now. He gave him a push.

All five of them looked up and Gerald and Arnold.

"What?" Curly asked, "May we do, for you?"

"Go out with me!" Gerald blurted out. It was quiet for a moment, before everyone at the table laughed. Curly leaned back and smirked.

"While I'm flattered, I must decline. You're not my type," he said. There was a little more laughing at the table.

"Good thing he didn't mean you, you freak," Arnold butted in. "He meant Phoebe. You're too much psycho for Gerald's taste. Plus it's rumored you have a dick."

"He was joking Football Head," Helga said suddenly. "Sometimes I think you have nothing but air in that head of yours."

"Makes the moniker more ironic, doesn't it love?" Curly said, turning to her.

"Shut up," Arnold snapped. He turned to glare at Helga.

"What are you going to do, Arnold?" she asked. "Run home and tell daddy?"

Before Arnold could say anything, Gerald looked at Phoebe and asked her again.

"Of course, Gerald," she answered.

"Oh, brother," Helga said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, Helga, what is it?" Arnold asked. The way those words came from her mouth and made him feel made him feel edgy. Something wasn't right here. Helga glared at him.

"Go away Arnold."

...

...

Things didn't get any easier as they got older. When they were fifteen, Bob finally gave Helga permission to convert the basement into a mock ballet room. She had a barre put in, and mirrors. She did begin to pluck her brow, but still kept them thick, though shaped. She was tall and lithe. Arnold would covertly spy on her as she danced.

He needed a distraction.

It didn't help that his best friend was dating her best friend. It often meant they were hanging out together. That summer Arnold really realized something was wrong. Watching her in her bikini, he'd gotten . . . aroused. His dreams were often filled with her. It was getting to the point where he needed a release.

Enter Lila Sawyer.

Lila was nice to people she liked, not so nice to people she didn't. But she did it in a way where you couldn't hate her for it. She was polite about her dislike of people. She was also completely different from his sister . . . yes, sister, that's how he needed to think of Helga. After all, isn't that how they were raised.

_"There's no blood, there's no blood,"_ a voice would whisper in his ear. _"You can have her, you know you can. Without blood, it's not incest!"_

_"Bob would kill me," _he would answer back to the voice.

_"Then dont. Get. Caught."_

Once he and Lila started dating, Helga hung around with Phoebe less and less, until they were barely speaking.

This suited Arnold just fine. The only time it became a problem was when he was at home. But really, these days, the only time he saw Helga was at dinner times. After dinner she would seal herself up in her room. Arnold had snuck in there to get a CD she had, that he wanted to listen too.

He saw a book sitting under her pillow and pulled it out.

_Lady Chatterly's Lover._

Arnold put it back, but went to his room and looked it up. He smirked. He now had a pretty good idea of what Helga was doing alone in her room. But instead of giving him reason to mock her, it made his urges worse. The idea of her, lying in bed, reading erotic literature, maybe touching herself . . . he decided to spy on her one night, and hid his wireless computer camera in her room. He knew it was risky and he could be caught. But he was just curious . . .

He settled in to watch the show.

Helga went and had a shower before going to her room. Arnold watched as she dropped her towel on the floor and dropped herself down onto her bed. She laid there for a moment, before sitting up. The hair down there was a few shades darker than the hair on her head, and she had been keeping it trimmed. Instead of doing anything interesting, Arnold saw her getting her sleepwear out of her drawers and singing.

"_Days like these, lead to, nights like this, lead to, love like ours,_" and Arnold swore she looked straight at the camera when she said the last words. "_You light the spark in my bonfire heart_."

Arnold slammed the lid to his laptop down.

The next morning he found the camera sitting on his bedside table with a small note.

_Enjoy the show?_

...

...


	3. Chapter 3

I was six when I learned where babies really came from. Before then I thought they were literally brought to you by people. After all, that's how my "brother" was brought to me, when we were two. When I told the teacher she smiled and had a little laugh.

"That's quite the imagination you have, Helga," she told me.

I asked Olga what imagination was. She took me to get a dictionary out, and we looked it up. There were other words I wanted to look up as well. That was the most valuable lesson my sister would ever teach me: how to use a dictionary. I went back to that dictionary so often, the Olga bought me one for my seventh birthday.

By then me and Arnold were "thick as thieves". That was how we were often described in our younger years. We would walk to school holding hands, we would have sleep outs in each other's rooms or in a tent in the backyard. We did everything together, except when he did things with his other friends. I was never good with his other friends. They used to tease us when we were little, and I would be mean back. Arnold would tell me off, and I would walk away.

But the real divide didn't really come until Middle School. I had my first period and it freaked me out. I was so embarrassed. I had to go to the nurses office, and get a pad from her. It felt horrible. So when school finished I ran home, not bothering to wait for Arnold, or see Phoebe. I just wanted to get home, and get my money and go get something to stop this with. When Arnold got home he banged on my door asking why I didn't wait for him. I told him to go away.

The whole dynamic changed. I told mom what had happened, and she took me out to buy pads and tampons.

"Try one of each, and decide which you like best," was her answer. "I suggest saving the pads for bed though."

Our sleepovers stopped then, too. And Arnold was grumpy at me. All the time.

By the beginning of High School, we had our own separate lives and groups of friends. I was in drama, as was Curly, who also took ballet with me. I was often lead in the plays at High School. It was why I had started to pluck and wax. But I still kept them thick so as to save my face from extra make up, particularly during my recitals. That neither of my parents, sister or "brother" ever showed up to . . .

Speaking of brothers . . . it was Curly who first pointed out Arnold's odd behaviour. I never thought too much of it. Arnold was always wierd.

"Yeah, but I've seen the way he watches you," Curly said one day. We were fourteen by now. Curious about what he had said, I decided to do a bit of observing myself.

Which is when I started having less than sisterly thoughts about him. Which was awkward. So I did my best to shut him out more, but at the same time couldn't help but test the waters using him as my guinea pig. I wore shorter shorts, ate a popsicle suggestively, left my undies in our shared bathroom a few times.

By fifteen I had realized I needed my own private space. I had once been admiring myself in the mirror when I happened to catch his reflection looking in. I turned to look, but he was gone. Sometimes I wondered if I had imagined it. In the end I was spying on him, too. Not sure if he knew it though.

"Dad, can I convert the basement into a studio?" I asked one night.

"A studio?" he asked. "What for?"

"To practice my ballet, dad," I said, trying to sound innocent and not sarcastic. "It will also be quieter up here if I can close the door to the basement and keep my music downstairs."

I watched as he chewed his food and thought it over.

"Sure, why not?" he said at last.

Victory!

...

...

When we were fifteen and Lila arrived on the scene. She had always been there, but was never much involved with us, until Arnold asked her out and she said yes. Hanging around her and Arnold together made me nauseous, so I stopped hanging around them. But that meant not hanging around with Phoebe, which meant less and less talking. Eventually it virtually stopped.

I spent more time with Curly, who was obsessing over Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.

And Arnold's behaviour towards me.

"He appears to be more affectionate towards her when you are around, have you noticed?" he asked me one day.

"No. I try not too," I said, closing my locker and looking their way.

"Well, you should, because I'm not the only one to notice," he said. I have seen the questioning looks in her eyes when she looks at you. She's trying to work something out. And if I notice it, and she notices it, who else has?"

It gave me pause for a moment, but then I let it go. I needed to focus on other things.

Then he started to fight back.

Walking around without a shirt on, leaving his dirty laundry on the floor. Then there was that one time I set up a camera in my room. One of my CD's had been scratched. Arnold denied it of course, even after I accused him of stealing them. I really didn't expect to see what I did see. He went up ahead of me one night after dinner. I deliberately took my time, waiting, then eventually went upstairs for a shower. I took my time in there too.

When I finished and came out, I closed to door, dropped the towel and laid on the bed and grabbed my little camera, and skipped forward to where I saw him in my room. I saw him looking at my current reading material - embarrassing - and then set up a camera of his own on my desk. Man, was I mad! That pervert was probably watching me right now.

So I turned on the radio, skipping to my favourite song at the moment, and began singing along, and dancing a bit, while getting my P.J's out of my drawer, then I made a point of staring straight at the location I suspected his camera was in and sung a sentence.

Then I moved to my bed and pretended to read. Perv wanted a show, he was going to get one. So I gave him one. Then early hours of the morning I found his camera, wrote him a note, and popped it on his bedside table with a note.

_Enjoy the show?_

I remember the feeling of glee as I snuck back out of his room. I could barely contain my laughter. I couldn't wait to see him at the breakfast table, if he showed, after he read his little note.

If he didn't know I was spying on him before, he would know now.

Things got really insane when we turned sixteen though . . .


	4. Chapter 4

(Arnold would be OOC. He's grown up in a very different environment to the one his character actually did. It's been said that woman inherit their traits where as boys soak up their environment. The main male role model Arnold has had in his life in this story is Bob. Very different from his grandpa.)

...

...

It happened on a Saturday morning, in their sixteenth year. Bob had gone to work, Miriam went to an AA meeting, then planned to go out with some other members after the meeting. That left him and Helga alone, with Olga being away.

"Curly's coming over this morning to practice our dancing," she told him.

"Here?" Arnold asked. Damn it. That would mean hours of listening to that boring, classical music drifting up from the basement. "What are you doing?"

"Giselle," she told him. "Got a problem?"

"Besides your music? Nope," he said, sitting down and opening his soda.

"Just send him down when he gets here," she told him. He listened as she walked off muttering to herself.

"Talking to yourself is a sign of madness!" he called out.

"Shut up Arnold!"

He picked up the remote, switched on the tv and smirked.

Ten minutes later Curly showed up. Arnold groaned as he got up and let the freak in. Curly really did freak him out. He was pretty sure the guy was going to be a serial killer one day. If he wasn't one already.

"She's downstairs," Arnold said, opening the door for him then going back into the lounge. Curly walked past, and made his way downstairs, not bothering to say a word.

Two hours in and Arnold was getting bored. Gerald was on a date with Phoebe, Lila was visiting family out of town. He didn't want to spend time with other people. Getting bored he decided he would head downstairs and see what Curly and Helga were up to.

He could hear the music, and noticed the door was closed. Opening it quietly he made his way down the stirs, then froze, and backed up a bit, and sat down.

They were naked.

They were dancing together naked.

Holy shit.

Naked.

Arnold watched awed, as they danced. It looked like such intimate dancing.

"What are they doing?" he whispered to himself.

But he couldn't take his eyes off Helga. He was getting turned on by it. And was about to turn around and go back upstairs when the music came to an end. He held his breath as Curly leaned forward and kissed her. Helga looked to be kissing him back. Curly's hands were starting to roam over her body.

A boiling hot ball of jealousy rose, and Arnold felt like he was going to vomit. He stood up and went back up the stairs, closing the door, waiting a few moments then went and banged on it.

"Helga, Mom's on the phone!" he called down. He went and picked up the phone, holding onto it and watching the door. A few minutes later he heard her banging up the stairs and the door open. "She couldn't wait."

"What did she want?" Helga asked, looking out of breath and flushed. Arnold shrugged.

"To get something sorted for dinner," he told her.

"Is that all?" she asked. Curly appeared behind her.

"I'm going to head off," he said quietly. Helga turned and gave him a small smile.

"Sure, I'll see you at school on Monday," she said. He nodded, then turned and left.

Helga walked up the stairs and Arnold followed her. When she entered her room and went to close the door he stopped her.

"So, how was practice?" he asked.

"Fine," she answered. "Now go away."

"Looked interesting," he said casually. Helga froze and tensed up. Arnold smirked. "I've never seen naked dancing before."

Helga turned and stared at him.

"What do you want?" she demanded. Arnold walked forward.

"Helga, I'm hurt that you think I would want something from you," he said, smiling wickedly. "I love you, sister dear."

"Shut up and name your price," she said.

"Price?"

"Oh, please, Arnold, we both know how this works," she snapped. "I've done something I don't want mom and dad to know, and you blackmail me for your silence. So what is it? All your chores for a month? Doing all your homework? What?"

_You_, he thought, keeping it to himself.

"Ten solids, chores _and_ homework for a month," he finally said. Helga eyed him, suspicious.

"That's it?" she asked. "Ten solids, chores and homework?"

Arnold shrugged. "For now."

Helga glared at him. "We make the deal now, Arnold. Is that all? Cause once it's done, that's it."

"Okay, okay, that's the deal. Ten solids, one month of homework and one month of chores," he said, holding out his hand. His heart was pumping hard, and he knew his palm was starting to sweat. How weird it was going to be to touch her after seeing what he had seen.

Helga's heart was beating just as much. Shit, not only had Arnold seen her dancing naked, he now had a very serious hold over her. She knew, and he knew, that if Bob ever found out that would be it. She'd be finishing her education locked away in an all girl's boarding school!

Reaching out, she took his hand, electricity running up her arm. She looked him in the eyes and for a while they both stood there just staring at each other, both having a mixture of confusing feelings and emotions running through them, and thoughts that no brother and sister should have about each other.

"Deal," she finally said.

...

...

"She throws crazy, mad parties!" Lila yelled to Phoebe. Phoebe nodded. This wasn't really her scene. After being handed a cup of vodka and orange, she found her way to the kitchen and tipped it out, replacing it with just water and a bit of orange juice. No way was she getting drunk.

"Where's Helga?" Lila asked, looking around.

"She hates parties," Phoebe told her. "I'd be very surprised if she made it." She looked over to see Lila digging her phone out of her pocket, and dial a number.

"Hey, when are you going to get here?" she asked into it. "Oh, okay, well see you soon, and good luck!"

"Arnold?" Phoebe asked. Lila nodded.

"He's trying to convince Helga to come along," she said, laughing. Lila grabbed Phoebe's hand and pulled her into another room that was more quiet. "So tell me, it's obvious they're not really brother and sister."

Phoebe laughed. "What gave it away?"

"Arnold's head," Lila said laughing. "But seriously what's up with that?"

"Helga's parents took Arnold in when he was two. His parents went away and didn't come back, and child services decided his grandparents weren't up to looking after a small child, so re-homed him with the Pataki's," Phoebe told her. "Has Arnold never told you about this?" Lila shook her head. "And no one else has said a word? Huh."

"But they're like brother and sister, right?" Lila asked.

"Why? What are you implying?" Phoebe asked.

"What? I'm not implying anything, I just . . . well, I mean . . . you know, you rad stories . . ."

"Arnold and Helga have always been close, even when we were kids." Phoebe said.

"So there's nothing else?" Lila asked.

"Not that I know of."

...

...

"Come on, Helga," Arnold said. "You can't be a hermit your whole life."

"Watch me," she said, laying back on her bed and picking up her book.

"What, no Lady Chatterly's Lover?" he asked teasingly.

"Shut up," Helga snapped, turning red. "Or I'll throw this book at you."

Arnold laughed. "You'd never dare treat a book so badly. They're your babies."

He was standing there in his towel. He had been for a while. Helga was using the book as a shield, to keep from looking at him. The "squiggly's" were starting up in her lower stomach. She could feel it starting to heat up . . .

Arnold stood back, watching her lie there. She had pulled her knees up, which had caused the hem of her dress to fall right back to her stomach. If he leaned a little to the left, he could see her panties, her thighs . . . he sighed. This was too much. He had become such a pervert when it came to Helga. He wondered where this was all going to end up. Nowhere good, no doubt.

Helga had been so busy concentrating on not concentrating on Arnold, that she didn't realize he was standing above her til he took the book from her hand. Helga looked up at him.

"This little game we're playing, we both know what we want, Helga," he said, running her hair through his fingers, then letting it fall.

"I don't know what your talking about," she said, Her heart started beating fast. Oh, this was not good.

"Yeah you do," he told her. "I feel it. You feel it. And I'm pretty sure Curly senses it. It was a set up, wasn't it? The dance in the basement?" He sat down on the bed next to her.

"No. We really were trying nude ballet. He had heard of a group that did it, and wanted to try it and see what the fuss was about," she told him. "You weren't supposed to come in and see us, but Curly spotted you first, and whispered to me that you were watching and it was time to put on a show."

"You listened to that nutcase?" he asked.

"Look, Bob would kill us. Your supposed to be my brother, you are my brother, legally," she told him. "I'm your sister. You just keep dating Lila, and in a few years we're both going our separate ways. And well only need to see each other at Christmas and maybe Thanksgiving. If that."

"What do you mean, if that?" he asked.

"Really, Arnold? You really needed to ask me that?" she asked, raising a brow. "You really do have only air in there, don't you?"

They both sat there staring at each other.

"I'm not part of this family," she said, sadly. "Your more a part of this family, and you don't even share their blood."

Before he could answer, his phone went off in his hand, breaking the spell they had put on each other.

"You took your phone to the shower?" Helga asked.

"Hello? Oh, hey, yeah, I'll be there soon, just trying to talk Helga into coming. Okay, thanks, I'll need it, see ya," he hung up. He stood there a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Then he turned.

"Just this once, Helga, come to the party?" he begged.

Helga shook her head. "No."

"You owe me a solid, remember? Ten in fact," he reminded her. "So I'm calling on one now. Do me a solid, and come to the party with me."

"Arnold I said-"

"Or I tell Bob what you and Curly were up to in the basement," he threatened. "You know he'll take my word over yours, Helga. So do I."

"So your blackmailing me into going to a party?" she asked. "That's not doing you a solid, Arnold."

"Just get dressed," he snapped. "I'll drag your ass to that party clothes or no."

...

...

"Oh, wow, I can't believe he managed to get her to come to the party," Phoebe said. Lila looked over and smiled.

"And you thought it was impossible," she said to phoebe, laughing.

"Yeah, we'll see how long it lasts," Phoebe said, making her way over to them. "Hey, Helga, didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, well, now I've come, seen and conquered, I'm off," she said, turning around, But Arnold grabbed her arm and spun her back around.

"Not you don't, you've come, you seen, now you drink," he said, dragging her to the kitchen. "Back in a minute."

A few people who knew the two looked their way, but mostly they were ignored. Arnold grabbed a cup, bottle of vodka and the orange juice and ice, then mixed it together and handed her a cup.

"This is a nice, easy start off," he said, getting himself a beer from the cooler, then grabbing her hand and taking her back to the main room and Phoebe and Lila.

"Where's Gerald?" he asked. Phoebe pointed to the dining room.

"Beer pong," she said, and watched as he went over there. Helga stood there with Lila and Phoebe, uncomfortable.

"Hey, if I sneak off, will you guys cover me?" she asked. "I really don't want to be here."

"You can't leave," Lila said, threading an arm through Helga's. "You only just got here. Come dance with me."

"Uh, no," Helga said, pulling her arm away from Lila's. "I'm going home. Bye."

Helga put her cup down on a table and left, hurrying down the steps and walking towards her street. She'd gotten to the corner when she heard him calling out to her. She looked back to see Arnold running up to her. No way was she going to get dragged back there. As soon as she was around the corner and he was out of sight, she sprinted off up the road. She knew it was a stupid thing to do, and a waste of energy. He was going to catch up with her eventually.

She looked back and saw he was running after her. Smiling, and getting a shot of adrenaline, she took off a little faster. She'd get home, lock the front door, maybe the back and have a good giggle. That'll teach him! Seeing her house in sight, she took the risk and looked back. She didn't see him and slowed down. What a shame, she thought smiling, he must have given up. She looked up at the sky, wishing she could see stars. You could never see the stars here. Reaching her house, she walked up the stairs and opened the door, throwing the keys on the hall table. Then turned around and screamed.

"Jesus, Arnold, you scared the living shit out of me!" she said, throwing her jacket at him.

"Why'd you just run off like that?" he asked, panting. "And since when were you so good at running?"

Helga backed up the stairs, then turned around and rushed up them, two at a time.

"You'll never know!" she said. She heard the front door slam, and his coming up the stairs as well. She closed her bedroom door.

"Open the door!" he yelled, knocking on it.

"No!" she called back, laughing. She heard him move away from the door. She opened it a crack to peek through. He went into his room. She closed her door again and got undressed. What a moron, she thought. She had just taken off her bra and was in just her panties when she suddenly heard the door to her wardrobe open. She spun around to see Arnold standing there. Her eyes went as wide as his did, and she instinctively covered her breasts.

"I guess you forgot about the crawl space, huh?" he asked, his voice breaking, and face going a bit pink. But he still moved toward her. Her heart was beating so fast, the adrenaline still pumping through. She could see his was too. Her blood was sizzling, and she wondered if his was too.

His was more than sizzling. _No blood, no incest_, he was repeating in his head. _Go for it, do it, see what happens._

He reached out and touched her hair. He could see her breathing was labored.

"I wan't you," he said. Leaning in he kissed her gently, putting an arm around her waist. He felt her hands slide up his chest under his shirt, her mouth open and responding to his kiss. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it was going to come out his mouth. Using his other hand he brought it to her left breast. He could feel her heart beating just as hard as his, as he deepened the kiss. She pulled back from him.

"If we ever got caught, dad would kill us," she whispered. She pulled his shirt up over his head.

"Then let's make sure we don't get caught."

...

...

It became almost a game. Their perversion with each other didn't lessen over time. If anything it got more intense. And as time went along, and they didn't get caught, they took more and more risks. They always chose Helga's room, because it was the furthest from Bob and Miriam's room.

But their luck ran out just after Arnold's seventeenth birthday. Miriam had forgotten her and Bob's wallet, and hadn't realized until she and Bob had gotten to the restaurant. She opened the door quietly, and was surprised to find that neither Helga or Arnold were watching TV, or listening to music.

_They must have gone out with friends_, she thought, going upstairs. Once at the top though she paused. What was that? She looked towards Helga's bedroom, then quietly inched closer. She wasn't a stupid woman. She knew what sex between people sounded like. Had Helga been sneaking boys into her room? Because she could tell from the moans, groans and whispers that she wasn't alone.

Miriam placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it as slowly as she could and peeked in. Her jaw dropped, and the shock and fright of what she was seeing kept her from making a noise. Seeing her daughter, and the boy she had come to think of as her son, naked having sex with each other . . . her daughter moving herself on top of him, his hands on her breasts . . . Miriam watched for a few more seconds, stunned and motionless, then was brought out of her trance by the front door slamming.

Both Arnold and Helga stopped and looked at the door. She saw the fear in their faces. Saw them see her and Helga move off him and him cover himself and sit up. The looked at her with a mix of fear and shock.

"Miriam, what are you doing up there?" Bob called out. Miriam stepped back and shut the door. Bob couldn't know about this. He'd kill them. Both of them.

"I thought I heard someone in Helga's room," she called back down. "It was nothing. She'd just left the window open. The curtain knocked something onto the floor."

"Well, hurry up!" he yelled back at her, and left, slamming the door behind him. She turned and entered her and Bob's own room, grabbing their wallets from the dresser and went back into the hallway to se her daughter standing there, tears in her eyes, with Arnold right behind her.

"You stupid, stupid, children," she said.

"Mom-"

"I don't want to hear it. I'm not telling your father, but by God, I'm not letting this continue," she told them. She brushed past them and down the stairs, stopping once to stare back at them and shake her head. Then she was gone.

Leaving Arnold and Helga standing at the top of the stairs wondering what was going to happen now.


	5. Chapter 5

Bob was so disappointed the day Helga was born. And so was I. Things hadn't been going so weel. We had tried and tried after Olga was born, but all that resulted, until Helga, was two miscarriages and years of disappointment.

Bob wanted a boy. He'd always wanted a boy. So when Helga came along, he made me feel like I had failed. Helga one day made a point of showing him that it was the man's sperm that chose the sex of the baby.

I thought he would hit. Especially when she then said, "_Thanks for my vagina, dad,_" in that sarcastic way she does that gets under your skin. And she knew how to get under his skin.

We first met them at the park. Bob was over at the swings with Helga, and Olga and I were sitting under a tree, talking about her college applications and aspirations for the future. She was only sixteen, but she was a bright girl, always trying her hardest to please and get to where she was going.

A small boy crawled over to us, and looked up at us and smiled. I smiled back, taing in his funny shaped head.

"Arnold!" a woman called out. I looked up to see a shapely woman, in her late twenties maybe? With brown hair in a ponytail coming towards us. So that was where her son got his head from. I looked over to see the man who was coming up behind her and suddenly struggled to breath.

Miles.

"Miriam," he said, smiling. Oh, that smile, that smile. Many times I fell asleep with that smile in my mind, that persisted through my dreams. He was younger, it was true, but oh, so handsome. And nice.

"Hello, Miles," I said politely. He used to help Bob out with the store when it first opened. Many a fantasy of mine had involved this young man . . . not so young now, of course. He was sought after by a few girls though. Even Olga had a crush on him . . .

"This must be Olga," he said, smiling at her. "You've grown since I saw you last."

"Thanks," she said shyly, blushing.

"Stella, this is Miriam and Olga Pataki," he told the newcomer, wrapping an arm around her waist. "This is my wife, Stella."

Oh, my heart cracked. A wife. Of course, I shouldn't have been surprised. I looked down at his son. He had his father's eyes. Lucky boy. Those eyes, those eyes . . . oh, oh, oh, those eyes.

I was secretly in love with this man forever and always I am sure.

Which was why I was so eager and happy to take in his son when I heard what had happened. Bob was happy, because at last there would be a boy in the house. The boy he had always wanted . . .

There would be conditions, of course. The grandparents were still to have an active role in the boys life. It would have been impossible to prevent in any case, due to the grandparents living just down the road.

But I didn't care.

And the day he arrived, oh, I had my own little piece of Miles here. In my house. A child from a man I had dreamed of having a family too.

Should I have really been surprised that night when i came home to find Arnold and my youngest daughter in bed? I was, but also deep down I always suspected that something like this would happen. You can't have two unrelated teens living in a house, as close as they were, without something coming up. It was stupid to think otherwise. My shock quickly turned to jealousy, though I couldn't understand why.

I didn't tell Bob about what I had seen that night, nor would I ever. I wanted to keep the man I loved close, even if it was just by having his son. If Bob found out . . . I would lose Arnold, and thus Miles, forever. No. The solution was easy.

I had to get rid of the problem.

I had to get rid of Helga.

...

...

"You want to send her to stay with your mother?" I asked. "The girls in her senior year, Miriam, half way through. It'll stuff it up. Don't be so stupid."

"But Bob-"

"No, I'm not screwing up her education for a, a whim?" I told her. Something else was going on here. And I didn't know about it.

"It's not a whim, Bob," she said, sighing.

"Then what is it, Miriam?" I demanded. She was quiet a moment, then took a deep breath.

"Helga has been promiscuous."

"That's it?" I demanded. "The girls going around having sex? And you want to just uproot her now? In the middle of her Senior Year? Christ Miriam, what the hell do you think she'll be doing in College next year, huh?"

"Bob-"

"No, Miriam. The girl stays put til College," I told her. "End of story. If it's such a problem for you though..." I walked over to the bottom of the stairs.

"Helga Geraldine Pataki, you get your fanny down here pronto!" I yelled up. I frowned when I saw her appear. She looked genuinely upset and scared? "Talk time, now."

She walked down the stairs slowly, and I saw Arnold come out as well. He also looked worried.

"Just, Helga, boy," I said. He nodded and retreated into his room.

I went into the living room and sat down, and waited for her to come in. I was suspicious. Why did she look so frightened.

"No more sleeping around," I told her.

"Wha-what?" she stammered, looking at Miriam quickly.

"Your mother told me about you sneaking a boy into your room," I informed her. "No more. If you want to carry on like that, do it outside of this house. Not under my roof!"

"Or your down the road," Miriam added. Her tone made me look back at her. Then at Helga, who looked relieved. "Alright, what's really going on?" I demanded. "Don't think I don't know there's something happening that I don't know about."

Neither said anything, just continued their silent show-down. There was a triumphant gleam in Helga's eyes, too.

I'm going to be watching them both.

Closely.

"And don't get yourself pregnant!"

...

...

I watched her as she walked back up the stairs, then followed her. She wasn't going to get away with this. Neither were. And I told her so.

"A few more months Miriam, and we're both out of here," Helga informed me, sitting down at her dressing table and taking a brush and calmly brushing her hair. Then she looked at me and smirked. "What's the matter mom? Jealous?"

I moved forward faster than I thought possible and slapped her. She let out a shout, and fell from the chair.

"You little slut," I hissed at her.

"What the hell is going on?" Bob boomed behind me. I turned and saw him taking in the scene, Arnold right behind him.

"You might let her get away with being a trollop, Bob, but I sure as hell won't," I said, looking at Arnold when I said. Letting him know, he wouldn't get away with it either.

Neither would.


	6. Chapter 6

(I've never read or watched Game of Thrones, though I hear it's great :p )

...

...

Arnold started to spend more and more time at the Boarding House, getting to know his grandparents. Sometimes taking Helga with him. It got to the point where he set up a room in the attic, which looked up at the sky through a huge skylight. Sometimes he would go there without her, too, just to daydream and have quiet time. It was so nice. He would close his eyes and try to imagine what growing up here would have been like.

Things now would have been easier between him and Helga, if he had just grown up with his Grandparents in the Boarding House. They would be free to go out on actual dates, hold hands, kiss, laugh, do all the things he did with Lila, but he would actually be happy and in love with the person he was doing those things with. It would have been perfect.

Miriam was showing a very nasty side to her, making veiled comments, doing what she could to keep them apart. But six weeks after the confrontation, she exacted her punishment. Ans it was harsher and more cruel than anything anyone could have imagined. Especially Arnold himself.

He had gone to visit his grandparents at the Boarding House one day after school, a month after he and Helga had been caught by Miriam. Helga went home on her own.

Both had gotten a bit complacent.

"Helga, set the table for me, will you?" Miriam asked. Helga sighed and went and did as she was told. So much for revenge and punishment. Helga just sucked it up and did as she was told at the moment. _A couple more months and you're outta here!_

Dinner time came, and Arnold still wasn't back.

"Where is he?" Bob asked.

"He went to see his grandparents today," Helga told him. Miriam choked a bit, and both Bob and Helga looked at her.

"Wrong pipe," she said. "So, how was school?"

"It was-" BANG!

Everyone stopped and looked at the doorway. Arnold was standing there, eyes red, face splotchy, anger and sorrow etched on his face, and emanating from him. He pointed his finger at Miriam.

"You bitch!" he shouted. Everyone's jaw dropped and they were all stunned for a second. Helga turned to look at her mother, who sat there wide eyed.

"What the-"

"My grandma needed me! They rung and told you to tell me to go to the hospital!" he shouted, getting hysterical.

"What are you talking abou-" Bob started to ask.

"But you didn't tell me, did you?" he screamed, tears streaming down his face. "My grandma died without me by her side just so _you_ could punish me!"

"Miriam, what is he talking about?" Bob asked.

Everyone was still and silent.

"You're just a bitter, twisted, old bitch!" Arnold yelled.

"What is going on?" Bob roared. Then he looked at Helga. Arnold looked at Bob.

No one said anything. Helga looked down at the plate. Finally, Arnold broke the silence.

"My grandma needed me, and you never told me. You never passed on the message, did you?" Arnold accused.

Bob turned to look at Miriam.

"What is he talking about, Miriam?" he demanded, voice low and dangerous. Miriam cleared her throat.

"I didn't think it was serious," she said. "Old people go to hospital all the time."

"No, you wanted to punish me," Arnold accused. "Well, you did it. You punished me. Congratu-fucking-lations, you bitch."

He turned around and stormed up the stairs, slamming the door to his room.

"Well," Miriam said, picking up her fork.

"Why would he say that?" Bob asked. "Why would he accuse you of punishing him?"

Helga stood up, and left the room suddenly. "Stop right there." She stopped and turned to look at her father.

"I demand to know what the hell is going on in my house!" he roared. No one said anything. "I want to know now!"

They heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and saw Arnold with a bag and suitcase heading for the front door.

"Where the hell do you think your going?" Bob demanded, moving towards him. "And why the hell would Miriam be punishing you. What is no one telling me?"

Arnold looked at Helga, who shook her head, then shaking his, he picked up his suitcase, opened the door, taking his stuff to a waiting car. Helga looked out and saw it was the Packard. His Grandpa was in the front seat. After he threw everything in, he turned back and looked Bob square in the eyes.

"Because she caught me fucking your daughter," he said. Helga's eyes went wide, and her mouth opened. Bob frowned then turned to look at his daughter, who had gone white as a sheet. By the time he looked back, Arnold, and the Packard, were gone.

And a heartbroken Helga was left to face the consequences.

Alone.

...

...


	7. Chapter 7

She never said a word to me at school. I approached her once, and she turned and ignored me. Phoebe tried to find out what had happened, but got nothing. Helga shut down to everyone, including Curly.

"What the hell happened?" Curly asked. "She's dropped drama, ballet, everything."

I just shook my head, and walked away. I left a note of apology in her locker, then waited to see what she would do. She took it out, looked at it, then threw it in the bin. She never even opened it to read it.

The Graduation came, and we all went our separate ways.

It would be six years before I saw Helga again. I often have nightmares, even now, of the look on her face as I drove away that day. Heartbreak and fear. I asked Phoebe what had happened, but she didn't know. She hadn't heard from Helga at all. I tried asking Olga in a letter. She replied, but not with what I wanted to hear.

_Daddy sent her away. She's not likely to come back anytime soon, if ever._

What did that even mean? How could she never return to Hillwood? I got my answer when I came back for my first break from College. The For Sale sign outside the old house told me exactly how. After the fallout, it was Ernie and Oskar who went to retrieve clothing, only to end up having everything sent by truck to the boarding house, including photo's of me from over the years.

They had obviously purged my presence from the house. I guess I couldn't blame them.

Getting used to living at the Boarding House took a while. It was a very noisy place. Sometimes I would lay awake and feel homesick, but mostly it was because I knew my constant companion wasn't just a crawlspace away. That was the hardest thing. Not having her near-by.

I'll admit, in the beginning I was in it for the sex. I lusted for her. But now that she wasn't here, I realized that maybe there was more to it all, than I had originally thought.

Apparently Miriam was alone at the time. Bob had left, taking Helga with him. He later came back, but only to sell the house and finalise a divorce. I saw him once, and we locked eyes across the street, but I didn't have the nerve to ask what happened to Helga. And I doubted he would have answered honestly, if at all.

I went through the motions at College, had a girlfriend here and there. But I never did get over Helga. I managed to score an internship at the Smithisonion, thanks to being my professors pet student.

Funnily enough, it was Curly who finally had a tidbit of information on Helga. Apparently Rhonda had run into her in St. Tropez, of all places.

"She was there with Lorenzo," he told me. "She'd a model, you know."

I know. I had seen the pictures. Saw the television interview. Saw her being linked to numerous men.

"Lorenzo, who went to school with us, Lorenzo?" I asked, trying to be sure. Curly nodded.

"Apparently they bumped into each other at College," he told me. "She's coming to Rhonda and mines wedding as well."

He continued to talk about her, but I had closed my ears.

I was going to see her again.

...

...

My heart broke that day. My father . . . he didn't know what to say, what to do. Oh, how I feared what he was going to do to me. But it wasn't me he attacked.

It was Miriam.

"How could you have let this happen!?" he roared at her. Tears. There were tears.

"Bob it's not my-"

"You were supposed to watch them!" he screamed. He turned and yelled at me to get upstairs. But I could still hear it. "If you weren't so fucking drunk all the time, Miriam, you would have seen the warning signs, could have stopped it in it's tracks!"

"I tried!" she screamed back at him. "But you wouldn't let me send her away!"

"Don't you turn this on me, woman! It was too late by then, anyway!"

And on and on it went, the yelling, screaming, tears, blaming. It all ended with the sound of skin on skin, a slap. Then Dad leaving, shutting the door so hard behind him that the whole house shuddered. Then quiet. Dead Silence. It was me who went down the stairs and saw my mother sitting on the floor in tears. For a moment I thought he had hit her, but then she looked up. So much, hate and anger in her face, it scared me. I made a dash for the door, and just as I got the door open she grabbed my hair and I screamed.

I had always been the invisible child. It was always Bob who had diciplined me, and I was beginning to think now, that maybe I knew why. Father's could be hard, but mother's could be cruel. She pulled me back in and raised her hand before being knocked aside.

"Get up girl," dad said, grabbing me by the arm. "We're leaving."

He drove us to a motel. Then he left me there to watch TV. When he came back he had a bag of clothes.

"She'll be out in a few days," he told me, when he came back. "You're finishing school here, then we'll decide what to do." I saw him craddleing my diary. "Why him, Helga? Of all the boys in the city, why him?" Bob asked. I looked down, tears springing to my eyes.

"I don't know," I confessed. Why? Why had it been Arnold? Was it because he lived in close proximity? If he hadn't lived with me, would we have still became as we were? I had fallen in love with him.

More the fool me, I suppose. Arnold had no problems leaving me that day. It was a cut, that turned into a scar, that never completely healed. Bob and Miriam split up. I seized all contact with her. Olga . . . poor Olga, she was confused, and Bob left it to me to explain what had happened. I know Olga still talks to Miriam, but not a lot.

"She drinks so much," Olga said, shaking her head.

"She always did, that was half the problem," Bob would say sadly. Then he would sigh and wander off. Eventually, after I left to go to college he sold the house. "I just can't be there anymore." He sold up his business, and traveled a bit, visiting some cousins overseas. Eventually he settled down again, met a lovely woman, and remarried.

The biggest surprise to greet me was seeing Lorenzo at University. I went to an arts school in Paris, but fell into modelling. I still did my art, my ariting, and finished, but did modelling jobs in between. And got signed to be an Angel. Lorenzo was doing business on the same campus. He came along to a gig I was doing, and hit it off with the photographer there. And instead of going home for holidays, I instead went to Nice, a trip to Kitzbühel one Christmas which I paid for Dad to join me on, and Lorenzo and I went to St Tropez, where we saw Rhonda. She begged me to do some modelling of her clothes.

"Please, Helga, a famous model is just what I need!"

"Your shameless," I told her, but agreed and wore one of her designs to a party, spread her name . . .

It was awkward seeing her that first time. She had so many questions about what had happened. Why had Arnold left to live with his grandparents? Have I had contact with him? Where had I gone? And on and on. I filled her in as much as I could.

A couple of years later we received the invite to her wedding to Curly. Lorenzo accepted without consulting me first. I was annoyed. I didn't want to go. Not there. Not back to Hillwood. Not back to the curious looks, the questions . . . and maybe even him.

"I think Rhonda is under the impression we are together," Lorenzo told me one night as we sat down to dinner.

"Really?" I asked, trying to hide my annoyance. "I wonder why? Could it possibly be because we're always linked together in the tabloids?"

"Well, she addressed it to both you and I, instead of separate ones," he pointed out. "My parents think we are as well."

That made me choke on my food. Shit, if they thought so, they may talk to my father.

"What do we do?" I asked. We weren't together. Lorenzo was taken already. He just hadn't yet explained that his "partner of choice" was a guy.

"I think it may be time, but I need to talk to Marcus."

Two days before we flew back, I got the call from Olga. Miriam had finally done it. She had drunk herself to death. I wasn't surprised, but I was still sad. Though I didn't regret not talking to her, I had a feeling that maybe one day I would. Maybe I should have. It was too late now. I told my dad.

"You can't change it now, girl, all you can do is move forward," he told me. "Can't move forward if your always looking backwards."

"Wow, dad," I said, propping my chin on my hand. "You sound insightful." He turned pink.

"It's Heather, she's good for me."

I could see that, and Olga could see it, too.

...

...

"You look beautiful," I tell her. How I managed to raise such a smart, beautiful, talented young woman, I will never know. Actually, I could take no credit. Thinking back on it, she pretty much raised herself.

She was going to make a wonderful mother one day. A good mother. Not like her own. Thank God.

"Oh, look at you," Heather said, giving her a hug. "No wonder your so popular."

Helga gave a nervous laugh, then her phone rang.

"O, it's Olga," she said before answering it. Her face went from smiley to confused and sad in a moment.  
Oh, my God . . ."

I frowned and went to say something, but Heather stopped me, and led me from the room. A few minutes later Helga came in to tell me the news.

"She just . . . drank herself to death," she said, sitting down. "Literally, drank herself to death. How do you even do that?"

"With a lot of practice, and God knows that woman's had a lot."

...

...

(I like writing stories where Helga and her dad work together, rather than taking the usual path. I'm sorry if this isn't enough drama. I really think Bob does love his daughter, and I think it's sad that he's always portrayed in such a bad light, so I try not to do that in my fics. Mother's however, with daughters . . . jealousy is a wicked and very common issue . . .)


	8. Chapter 8

"Why are you not getting ready?" Lorenzo asked. Helga was lounging on a chaise, eating grapes and looking for all the world like an ancient queen.

"Well, I thought about it, and thought about it, and then realized, except for that time in St. Tropez, I haven't spoken a word to Rhonda in _years_," Helga told him. "And we were never _"friends"_, so really, why would I just randomly rock up to her wedding?"

"Because she invited you," Lorenzo pointed out, straightening his tie. He shook out his cuffs then turned to her. "How do I look?"

"I hate your boyfriend," she said. "Look, I'm just saying, why would I? She's not a friend, she hasn't even been an acquaintance. She's just . . . some girl I went to school with."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow and tilted his head back a bit.

"This has to do with the fact that Arnold may be there," he stated.

"I'm not going to lie, that is playing on my mind, too," she said, then she sighed. "I don't want to see him. I don't want to see anyone from those days . . . except you. Your gorgeous, and I could look at you all day."

"You flatter me, Helga, but only because you know nothing will ever happen," he told her.

"He left me, Enz. He helped make the mess, but didn't stick around to help me clean up," she told him.

"Worked out for the best though, didn't it?" he asked, sitting next to her. "Your famous, rich, have a good relationship with your father and his new wife."

"That's true, but look what happened to Miriam," she pointed out.

"Just come," Lorenzo told her. "You don't even need to talk to him. Show your face, get a little publicity for your friend, give her a taste of fame, then you can leave."

...

...

She'd had way too much wine. She was good at hiding that, though. Looking around, she spotted Lorenzo talking to his boyfriend. Gerald was flirting with some woman, and Phoebe wasn't there. They had separated during College, and when they tried a relationship afterwards, it just didn't work. A bit of Helga had felt sad when she had heard the news. Phoebe had been invited, but had not come.

She sighed, placing her half empty glass on the railing.

"Hello, Helga," she heard a man behind her say. She turned to see him standing there, looking nervous. She saw past him that Gerald was watching, though trying not to look like he was watching. Typical.

"Hello, Arnold," she said coolie, smoothing the bodice of her dress, then turning away.

"I'm sorry," he simply said. "I'm sorry I left you that day. I'm sorry I told him what was happening between us."

"Did you ever tell anyone else?" she asked quietly, not looking at him. She couldn't. All the feelings of hurt and anger were bubbling to the surface. She looked up again to see Lorenzo and Markus making their way towards her discreetly.

"No. No one," he said. "Never." Helga just nodded.

"And how is your Grandpa?" she asked.

"He died when I was nineteen," he said sadly.

"That's unfortunate," Helga said, not wanting to care. She didn't want to care. Not about him. Not about his feelings. But gosh, he was handsome, if a bit short. She mentally laughed. She was still taller than him. Not by much, but still. "Well, I think I'm going to find something to eat."

As she walked away she felt his hand reach out and grab hers, slipping paper into it.

"Please read it this time," he begged. Then he turned and walked away.

Helga looked at the envelope in her hand. It looked crumpled and old and she frowned. Was this the same letter her had put in her locker so many years ago? That she had thrown into the bin?

...

...

_Helga,_

_I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I was angry and hurt and I shouldn't have told him. I should have kept my mouth shut and gone. It's not your fault, or even Bob's fault, what Miriam did. _  
_I've explained things to Grandpa. He says if it gets too bad there you can stay here. I haven't told him about our "relationship". But he understands how close we would have become being raised together. So come here. Come live at the Boarding House._  
_Or even just come visit. I miss you. I miss not sneaking into your room and talking and whispering and laughing, and teasing, and watching movies, and other things. I miss you so much, my heart aches, every part of me aches. I want you with me. Please._  
_Arnold._

...

...

Arnold answered the knock on his door the a couple of nights later, to find Helga standing there. He could also see someone with a camera not too far behind, taking photo's? He looked at her and she handed him the letter.

"Your completely useless at writing romantic slop, you know that?" she said, smiling a bit.

"Yeah, I know," he admitted. "Do you want to come in?"

Helga looked behind her and then shook her head.

"Sure," she said warily, entering and waiting for him to close the door behind her. He watched as she looked around the old boarding house. "It's a lighter color then I remember."

"Yeah, I took up the old crimson carpet, sanded back the dark stain on the wood, to make it more lighter," he told her, looking around himself. He was proud of what he had done to the Boarding House. It was still the same on the outside, but the inside was lighter.

"It looks welcoming," she said, following him into the living room, which had also been renovated to be lighter and brighter.

"So are you here to just have a nosey?" he asked, teasing in his voice. Helga looked over to him, her bright blue eyes turning sad.

"I told dad about you," she said, taking a seat. She opened her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. "He hates how everything ended between you two. I know he regrets his words and actions that night. He would like to see you again. If you're willing."

Arnold sat next to her and took the piece of paper from her.

_Come visit boy, meet Heather - Dad_

Arnold's eyes stung. Dad. He hadn't used that word in years. He looked up at Helga who was sitting next to him staring at the wall.

"What did he say about that night?" he asked.

"You need to talk to him if you want those answers, Arnold," she said. "All I know, is for the first time in my life, he came through for me."

"And who's Heather?" Arnold asked. Helga smiled.

"Dad's new wife. She's wonderful," Helga said, leaning back and relaxing. "You'll like her. She's tamed dad, the Lord only knows how. She's been good for him. And me. Even Olga likes her."

"And Miriam?" he asked. Helga's eyes darkened.

"She drank herself to death, Arnold," Helga told him.

"Oh," he said, looking down at the floor and frowning. How sad.

"It fell apart after you left. I was dealing with that on my own, and my heartbreak, as well," Helga explained. "You abandoned me. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Arnold nodded. "Yeah, because my real parents did the same thing to me."

"Yeah, but you didn't have the history with them that you did with me," Helga growled angrily, quickly brushing her tears away. "How could you have done that to me?"

"I tried to make it better," he said, getting defensive. "Did you even read that note?"

"Yeah, Arnold, I did. Good idea. Run away together, cause that always works out for teenagers!" she yelled at him. "We still would have had to hide what we were doing. It was a stupid idea."

"Miriam-"

"I'm not Miriam! Dad was not Miriam, Olga wasn't Miriam!" she yelled at him angrily, getting close into his face. "You hurt all of us, Arnold, not just Miriam."

He was silent. What could he say?

"I was angry," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well so am I!" she screamed. She fell to the side and buried her head into the armrest of the couch. Arnold rolled his eyes. _Drama Queen_, he quietly thought. Then smiled. How he'd missed her.

He moved closer, and touched her back. The heat from her back raced up his arms, as he leaned in her perfume assaulted his senses. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The scent was bringing back memories, that made his blood boil pleasantly. He could already feel his arousal . . . what was it about her that made him feel so perverted? So wanting. Even after all these years, the relationships he'd had. Nothing compared to her . . .

She sat up suddenly, knocking him backwards.

"Are you sniffing me?" she demanded. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm breathing, Helga," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, stop it!" she shouted.

"Stop breathing?" he asked, getting up as well.

"Look, I came here to tell you, I read the letter and to pass on the message from Dad, and I did," she told him, backing away. "So, I think I should go."

"Helga-"

"No, Arnold. Just, no," she said, holding her hand up. "I could never trust you again. Not after what you did."

With that she spun on her heel and disappeared out the door, slamming it closed behind her.

Arnold stood staring at the door for the longest time, before making up his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

(This is only going to be a 10 chapter story. I generally don't like going past ten chapters - "Thinks" being the exception. I have also been having issues updating on here, and sent away a thingy ma-bob, so if your reading this it's been sorted.)

...

...

Heather was finishing up the dishes. Helga was coming home for dinner tonight, so she was getting everything cleaned up for her visit. She was humming away, every now and then checking in on Bob, to make sure he was comfortable. He was a bit paler than usual, and she was worried. But in typical man style, he said he was fine, and refused to see a doctor.

"It's only a problem when my heart stops," he grumbled.

"That's silly Bob, and you know it," she chastised him. "I'm making an appointment for you on Monday."

It was Saturday, so there was still two days to go. Helga was due in an hour, which is why Heather frowned a bit when she heard knocking on the front door. Drying her hands, then going to answer it, she opened the door to see a man standing there, with blond hair, and a slightly football shaped head.

"Arnold?" she asked. The man looked surprised.

"Uh, yeah," he said, cautiously. "I'm looking for Bob Pataki."

"Of course, come in," she said, giving him a big smile and opening the door wider, stepping to the side for him to enter. "He's in the living room at the moment. He hasn't been feeling to well lately."

She hoped he couldn't hear the concern in her voice. Because she was concerned about Bob.

"It's this way," she said, realizing that he didn't know his way around. Bob had spoken a lot about Arnold, that she almost felt she knew him. Bob had been very proud of Arnold's various accomplishments. But there was also deep remorse. He had said some things to his "son", that he had never been able to take back or apologize for saying. It weighed heavy on his heart and mind often. Hopefully this could be the start towards a healing or sorts for these two. "Bob, you have a guest."

Bob turned and his mouth dropped open when he saw who was sanding there.

"Hey, dad," Arnold said. Heather was surprised by how fast Bob moved. He wrapped his arms around the man in front of him. Arnold wrapped his arms around Bob. They stayed like that for a few moments, before separating.

"So what are you doing these days, boy?"

Heather walked away to finish getting everything ready, while Arnold and Bob sat and talked. She wondered briefly how Helga was going to react, then shrugged. Helga was an adult. She could only hope she acted as one.

...

...

"I can't believe how late we are," Helga grumbled.

"Well, I'm sorry, Helga, but I had to go see that lawyer," Olga snapped. "Not everything is about you."

"I should have brought myself," she said, glaring out the window. Olga chose to ignore her grumpy-pants sister.

"SO how did it go with Arnold?" she asked. Helga shrugged. "Well, did you talk about, you know . . ."

"No, Olga, we didn't," she snapped. "Stop digging."

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are. Stop it," she accused. "God, why did I agree t come with you?"

"What a surprise it's going to be for daddy and Heather when I pull up, too," she said smiling.

Helga mentally gagged. "Yeah, especially if they haven't made enough food."

Olga glared at her sister. Finally she saw their house and breathed a sigh of relief. Helga was being particularly insufferable today. As they pulled in, Helga un-clipped her belt, and had the door open before the car even stopped. As soon as it had, she jumped out, and made her way into the house. Olga followed a bit behind. Her sister was standing at the door, foot tapping.

"Finally," she said, as Olga reached her. She turned and rang the doorbell. A few moments passed before they heard footsteps at last, and Heather opened the door.

"Surprise!" Olga said, bursting in past Helga, and almost wacking her in the face when she threw her arms into the air.

"Olga!" Heather exclaimed, falling backwards. "We weren't expecting you."

"I know, but I wanted to give Daddy a surprise," Olga said, clasping her hands in front of her. "How is he?"

"Hey, Heather," Helga said, coming in as well. She watched as her sister suddenly froze while looking into the living room. Then look at her. Then back to the living room.

"Oh," she finally said. "Um, hello. I wasn't aware that you already had another guest . . ."

"Told you so," Helga said, walking up to see who her sister was talking about.

It was like a slap from the past. Football was on, and Arnold was sitting in a chair next to her father watching it. Suddenly she felt herself falling through time. She was a young girl again, her "brother" being favored over her, she being ignored . . .

"What are you doing here?" Helga burst out.

"I came by to see _Dad_," Arnold told her, putting extra emphasis on the word dad, and Helga didn't miss Bob's grin at that. "And they invited me to stay for dinner."

...

...

Helga barely ate. Bob and Arnold kept talking about the good old days. Olga sat quietly, observing the atmosphere. Heather was trying to keep it as relaxed as possible, though it was hard to do when both the girls were uncomfortable. She relished the chance when dinner was finished to leave the room and get dessert. She took a breather in the kitchen, then picked up a tray with five small bowls of chocolate pudding, and brought it in. After that, Bob grabbed him and Arnold a beer, and they walked out into the living room.

"I'm so sorry, girls," Heather apologized. "It was Bob's idea for him to stay for dinner."

"It's fine, Heather," Olga said, giving the woman a smile. It still hurt her that her father had just left her mother and re-married. Helga didn't seem to have an issue with it. But Olga couldn't help but resent the woman a little bit. "I should have told you I was coming."

Helga remained silent, before getting up and walking off out into the backyard. There was a huge willow tree there. A couple of years back she had put a swing up for Heather's niece. Sometimes she would sneak out and sit on it. It was something she always dreamed of having when she was a child, but living in the city as they did . . . it just wasn't possible. And the boys had dibs on Mighty Pete's design. She sighed, twirling herself around and closing her eyes. Winter was coming. You could feel it . . .

"Hey," she heard him say behind her. She stopped spinning, though her head didn't. She waited til she could look at him without feeling dizzy. Then she stared at him for a moment. "Nice night out."

"What do you want?" she asked. Not aggressively, but tiredly.

"I want to start again, go back to the night and take it all back," he told her. "I regretted it, Helga. I really, really did. It's haunted me for years."

"Sex is like good food, Arnold, you can eat it with anyone, not just your "sister"," Helga said sarcastically, using her fingers to quotation the word sister.

"That's not what I'm talking about missing," he growled. "I missed being in a family setting. My grandpa . . . he just . . . wasn't the same after my grandma died. He never recovered from that. I could never tell anyone what had happened, why I was no longer living with you or why you weren't talking to me. And I had no one to talk to myself, either. And then he died. I had _no_ family, Helga. None."

"That was your choice," she told him, standing up.

"I was young and angry, Helga. I did something that I wish I could take back," he said. "But it didn't all end badly, did it?"

"My parents divorced and my mother drank herself to death," Helga reminded him.

"Well, it's not like no one ever tried to help Miriam. Dad did, that's for sure," Arnold said. "I'll never forgive her for what she did, Helga. Never."

Helga could see that by the fire burning in his eyes. That was a hate that he would carry with him forever. She just hoped he wouldn't let it consume him. She frowned. She didn't want to be like that . . .

"I can understand that," she said quietly. "There's a lot I find hard to forgive."

"I want to try again," he said, his voice breaking a bit. "I want to get back to where we were."

"Sneaking around having sex?" she asked, glaring.

"No. Just being together. Hanging out, watching movies, eating junk food," he told her, looking up. "I've missed you so much, Helga. I didn't even think about how much I would miss you, how much a part of my life you were, til you weren't there and you wouldn't let me back into yours. I want to see if we can be . . . a couple or something. A normal couple."

"I have a hectic schedule for the next three months," she told him.

"Helga-"

"I just . . ."

"I love you. I think," he said. "I did. I realized it too late. I want the chance-"

"I'm busy-"

"Forever?" he asked, his voice breaking again.

Helga sat thinking about it. Should she give him another chance?


End file.
